The Rapunzel Act, page 31
The crowds outside court on Monday morning filled the pavement, the road and the side streets on either side. The underground passageway, leading to the public entrance, was impassable. Mounted police stood at each end of Old Bailey, their horses’ tails twitching. A group of Japanese tourists, their phones on long-reaching selfie sticks, hovered on the periphery, pointing and chattering.
The stalwarts of the transgender rights groups were back, now simply chanting ‘Debbie, Debbie, Debbie,’ but with many more swelling their ranks. The domestic violence lobby was nowhere to be seen. Either they had stayed at home or, fearing a backlash, they had defected to support Debbie, the new underdog and victim. Then, marching along Newgate Street with the backdrop of St Paul’s Cathedral, so that the traffic was halted in its tracks, was a large deputation. And while the other campaigners had been predominantly female and vociferous but controlled, this group was male-dominated and edgy.
It was scheduled to be a hot day and some of the men were only in vests, revealing an array of tattoos. ‘Stamp out police corruption’ their banners read, and ‘F**k the police’ and ‘It’s a fit up’ and a number of them were punching the air aggressively, with hands wearing one black motorbike glove.
For a split second, it looked as if they would continue marching and burst through the doors of the building, but then they halted and jostled for position, joining ranks with the incumbent demonstrators and satisfying themselves with more shouting and waving. After a few false starts, the chant became the uplifting ‘Debbie, Debbie, Debbie’ answered by the subversive ‘Fuck the police’.
‘Who on earth are this new lot?’ Judith and Constance retreated to a vantage point looking down Old Bailey and watched the crowd converge on the court.
‘I don’t know. But at least they’re on our side.’
‘They’re not really on our side, or Debbie’s side, are they?’ Judith said. ‘They just happen to be against the side who are pursuing Debbie, for a variety of perceived injustices. I find it rather terrifying, if I’m honest. I mean, all this anger. No wonder there were those attacks. I’d like to bring the people who wanted transparent justice here right now and stand them in the middle of this mob. Then we’d see whether they still thought it was a good idea.’
* * *
Nicki stood back from the road, just opposite the court entrance in an office doorway, watching the arrivals and departures and the general progress of the protests. She exchanged a nod and a wink with one of the leaders of the new, hostile delegation. The power of being well-connected. That was something she had learned early on and used regularly to her advantage. Most things could be sorted out in your favour, if you had enough people on your side.
* * *
Debbie stepped up into the witness box, in one large stride. Her hair was scraped back in an exquisite half braid, neat at the scalp but fanning outwards around her chin. She was wearing pale pink, her favourite colour, with a phoenix brooch pinned to her lapel. Nicki was there again, this time on the second row and Constance was surprised to see Jason slip in at the back, shortly before proceedings began. A couple of people smiled at him, one insisted on shaking his hand, another tapped him companionably on the shoulder. Constance returned her attention to Debbie. The entire public gallery collectively held its breath.
‘Hello Debbie. You know the process now, as you’ve been sitting in court all last week. I am going to ask you a few questions and then Mr Laidlaw will take over. I may have some further questions after that. Let’s begin with how you and Rosie met.’
Debbie folded one hand on top of the other.
‘I first saw Rosie in a bar on Upper Street,’ she said, speaking slowly but clearly, as Judith had directed. ‘She was out with some friends, including Caz Fleming – that much she said was true; not much else. I bought her a drink, we spent the evening together, in a group. That’s how we met.’
‘And after that?’
‘It was a bit slow to start. I was just on the brink of making it at Arsenal, into the full squad, so I was training and there were matches and Rosie asked me to keep it quiet. She wasn’t famous then herself, but she still didn’t want to be all over the papers. And she said her parents wouldn’t approve.’
‘Why was that?’
‘They weren’t very keen on her wanting to be an actress; they thought she could have done better, should have studied. And if they knew about me, they would flip, she said, would insist she come back to live at home.’
‘You kept things quiet?’
‘We did, and then she landed the job with Channel Four. It was just a research role and low-key, but then it grew and she was financially independent, so when I proposed she said yes.’
‘Were you happy when she took over as the face of Breakfast Time?’
‘’Course I was. She loved the work, she was brilliant and she wasn’t just doing it for the fame…or the money. She wanted to shine a light on important issues too. I was caught up in my own career and I didn’t often tell her how proud I was. I should have done that more.’
‘And your children?’
‘We were lucky enough to have two wonderful children. As they’ve told you, we weren’t perfect parents, but we loved them and we did our best.’
‘You have had a distinguished career as…’
Jeremy Laidlaw was on his feet.
‘Your honour. I am just wondering whether this is a murder trial or an episode of This is Your Life, Laidlaw oozed.
‘Yes. Ms Burton, let’s have a question please, of relevance to the case.’
‘Of course. I was just getting there. Monday 17th June. You went to visit Rosie at home. Why?’
‘We needed to talk about our son, Ben. And there was an issue with money, but not what you’ve been told. When I moved out, I agreed to pay Rosie to help towards expenses, especially as Rosie paid for all the other properties we owned. It wasn’t very much. Rosie earns…earned far more than me for the last three years; more just the principle. I wanted to still provide for Ben, if I could.
‘I set up a direct debit, but there was a problem and I kept receiving the money back. Rosie was cross. I’m not sure she believed I had ever set it up. She used to do all our banking before, and I had never done anything – no online banking, nothing. I said I would bring along all my details and I would set the direct debit up again, online, with her there, watching. Then she could make sure everything was done properly.’
‘And what time did you arrive?’
‘About 1 o’clock.’
‘What were you wearing?’
‘A pale blue track suit. It was a warm day. I don’t remember wearing a coat. I think Mrs Harris must be mistaking that for another occasion. I do have a beige raincoat, but I wasn’t wearing it that day.’
‘And your gloves?’
‘I should wear them. I know they absorb impact if you fall and they protect your hands but, like I say, it was hot. We don’t always do what’s good for us.’
‘You’ve seen the glove which was shown to the court last week. Is it yours?’
‘I expect so. I don’t want to be difficult. It’s just that I don’t think I wore gloves that day. And I haven’t found the other one. I might have left them there on a previous visit.’
‘Still won’t admit it’s hers,’ Laidlaw muttered, before clearing his throat. Judith ignored him and ploughed on.
‘What did you and Rosie talk about?’
‘We started off talking about her. She had been going through her post, her messages, and some of them upset her. I tried to reassure her.’
‘And then?’
‘We set up the direct debit together. She said she was grateful. It was probably the closest we had been, since I left. She asked if I was happy, which was nice of her. But when we started to talk about Ben, things became…heated. She…accused me of “leading him astray”. I said that I didn’t want to stamp on his dream, that acting was his passion, that she had to accept he may not want to go to university. I told her she should remember how she had felt about acting when she was 16, that she should be able to understand more, because of that.’
‘And what did Rosie say?’
‘She said I was selfish; I didn’t know then that she’d spoken to her mother the night before. Now I can see where that came from, as Rosie was usually a fair person. She was tough, but fair. She started to cry, said I didn’t realise how hard she was finding things; that, if I had ever loved her, I would make Ben take his A levels.’
‘And what did you say to that?’
‘I said I would talk to him, but I thought if he moved to a sixth-form college, he might have more time for acting, or maybe I could find out about a stage school. We agreed to discuss things again in a week or so.’
‘And what time did you leave?’
‘About 2pm.’
‘Did you return?’
‘No.’
‘Did you see anyone else when you left?’
‘No.’
‘And did Rosie tell you what her plans were for the rest of the day?’
‘She said she was going to go through her fan mail. She liked to try to answer letters herself, if she could. That’s all I remember.’
‘Was anything else bothering Rosie?’
‘Just the usual stuff about work, people always saying what they didn’t like.’
Debbie’s eyes wandered over the faces of the jurors before returning her attention to Judith.
‘I need to ask next about the 999 call from 2017. Do you remember that?’
‘I didn’t know about the call, but I remember the police came in the middle of the night,’ Debbie said. ‘They hauled me out of bed. I stood there in my pyjamas and they asked me lots of questions. Rosie said virtually nothing. Then they left.’
‘You didn’t know Rosie had called them?’
‘Not before they came. We had a row. I went for a walk to cool off. When I got back, Rosie was in bed. I climbed in too and I was fast asleep when they arrived, hammering on the door.’
‘What did Rosie say about calling the police?’
‘She said it had been a knee-jerk reaction, that she didn’t want to call anyone she knew, so she’d dialled 999. Then she’d realised it was a mistake.’
‘A mistake?’
‘I never asked her exactly what she meant, but no one was hurt, she was just wasting their time. And she knew it.’
‘Turning to the events of the evening of 17th June, why did you run away?’
‘I was just finishing my training, when Inspector Dawson and PC Thomas arrived. They introduced themselves. Then they told me Rosie was dead; murdered. I was in deep shock. I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to be away, outside; anywhere but there. And then I wanted to be with my mother. So that’s where I went. I never meant to “evade capture” or whatever the newspapers had as their headline.’
‘Were you ever violent towards your wife?’
‘Never.’
‘Did you kill Rosie?’
‘No. I never touched her. I know what they’ve been saying, that I’m a footballer, that I played rough sometimes. It’s not the same. Football’s a physical sport and I played it in that spirit. That’s all. But I do regret that we argued that day. It all seems so unimportant now she’s gone.’
‘Thank you. No further questions.’
* * *
Jeremy Laidlaw hastily scribbled a few notes into the margin of his notebook, then smiled at Debbie, as he leaned back and ran his tongue around his lips.
‘Why did you marry Rosie?’ he began.
‘I loved her. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her.’
‘Was there a particular catalyst, though, which prompted you suddenly to pop the question?’
‘I don’t think so. We went to Barcelona and it was very romantic. England had an international match there and I smuggled her in, quietly, to watch from a box.’
‘So she wasn’t pregnant then, when you proposed?’
Constance gasped and then covered her mouth. Debbie stared at her hands.
‘Could you answer the question please, Ms Mallard?’
‘That’s not why we got married. It was the 1990s, not the 1950s, and we were working up to it anyway.’
‘But she was…pregnant, when you proposed?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you organised the wedding within a month; so – no time for anyone to change their minds?’
‘We didn’t want to wait and we had to fit it around the football season.’
‘Rosie was offered a BBC role some years before she took the Breakfast Time slot, wasn’t she?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why didn’t she take it?’
‘I was away a lot and the kids were young?’
‘It wasn’t that you told her she had to stay at home, then? Now you’d caught her, you didn’t want her disappearing off all the time?’
‘No. It wasn’t.’
‘You said you married Rosie because you were in love. When did that change?’
‘It didn’t.’
‘It didn’t change?’
‘No.’
‘But you no longer had a…physical relationship with her, did you?’
‘Not for the last couple of years.’
‘So, it was selfish to expect her to want to stay with you?’
‘You could say that.’
‘How long have you been dressing up in women’s clothes?’
Debbie’s eyes flashed defiantly. ‘You make it sound like a game,’ she said.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘You make it sound like it’s something I play at; like musical chairs. I don’t “dress up” in women’s clothes. I wear them.’ Debbie’s voice grew louder and Constance tried to catch her eye to calm her.
‘All right. How long have you been wearing women’s clothes?’
‘In public – the last two years or so.’
‘And in private?’
‘I can’t remember. A long time.’
‘Did Rosie know?’
‘At first, not. I would buy a few things online and then wait till she was away to put them on.’
‘But eventually?’
‘Yes. I couldn’t help it. I suppose I was showing an interest in her clothes more and more and she realised it was…unusual.’
‘How did she respond when you told her that you wanted to become a woman?’
‘Not well.’
‘Can you expand on that?’
‘She screamed, she threw a plate at me. She told me to get out. So I went off for a walk. It was that night – the one when she called the police.’
‘Why do you think she behaved like that?’
‘She said she was shocked but, like I said, she knew before that something was wrong. I think she’d been hoping that things would go back to how they were before. This meant that would never happen.’
‘When did you know you wanted to become a woman?’
Debbie took a deep breath before replying.
‘I’ve always known. I’m not sure I could always express it in that way, but, for as long as I can remember, I have felt uncomfortable in my body. But there was no way for me to do anything about it. No one I could tell. The world was a different place then.’
‘So you tricked Rosie into living a lie?’
Constance thought Laidlaw must have planned his questions before this weekend’s events, given they were delivered with significantly less confidence than usual. Even so, she thought him incredibly insensitive to pursue this line. But Debbie remained calm.
‘You’ve been listening to her mother too. There was no trick. I loved Rosie. But I got to the stage where I realised that time was running out for me. We had done our bit as parents. I hoped Rosie could accept that I was still the same person underneath.’
‘But she couldn’t?’
‘No.’
‘You were very…disappointed in her, then?’
‘I understood. I even tried to imagine how I would feel if it was the other way around, but I had hoped for something better, yes.’
‘You mentioned setting up a direct debit from your bank account that afternoon, together with your wife. Can you tell us briefly about your banking arrangements?’
‘We had a joint account when we were married, for outgoings and we moved to separate accounts after our divorce. That’s partly why things were confused.’
‘I see. I know you’ve given an explanation about making a mistake with your direct debit, which you rectified, you say, conveniently, the day Rosie died, but can you explain two large payments made by Rosie – one in April 2017 and the other in January 2018?’
‘No. I can’t.’
‘Let’s take a look then, shall we? I’ll put them up on the screen. This is a statement from your joint account. If you cast your eye down to the entry for 6 April 2017, in fact there are two entries. There’s money coming in and then immediately going out. Can you read the figures out for me please?’
‘Yes. There’s £25,000 coming in from our savings account and then being paid straight out to a ‘ABC Happy Inc.’
‘Yes. And I will just forward the statement to January 2018. What can you see this time?’
‘Another £15,000. Same thing but this time going to ‘Shelf 123 Ltd.’
‘Can you tell us what these substantial payments were for?’
‘No. I’ve already said. I can’t.’
‘This was a joint account. You must have received statements periodically?’
‘Probably, but Rosie dealt with all our banking.’
‘You are maintaining you know nothing about these payments or who the recipient is?’
‘That’s right.’
‘How much does gender reassignment surgery cost?’
‘What?’ Debbie’s question rang out across the courtroom.
‘Gender reassignment surgery.’ Laidlaw enunciated each word slowly.
